Chapter 15
It’s only been a few days since Harper died, but I feel my world has shifted more in those few days than in all my years on this earth.
The police took my report. Twice. It’s understandable that they’d want to ensure there weren’t any holes in my story. It’s their job. Their questions were simple enough. Easy to answer.
“Can you explain to us what happened?”
“Harper leaned over the edge of the canoe. It tipped over. We all went under, but Harper never came up. I tried to find her, but I was running out of breath and needed to get Crew to safety.”
“Why were your children not in life vests?”
“We thought we were in shallow water. We were so close to the dock at first, but then…we weren’t.”
“Where was your husband?”
“He was at the grocery store. He told me to take the kids to the water before he left.”
I answered all their questions amidst bouts of sobs. Occasionally I would double over, as if her death were physically affecting me. I think my performance was so good, it made them uncomfortable to ask me more questions.
I wish I could say the same for Jeremy.
He’s been worse than the detectives.
He hasn’t let Crew out of his sight since Harper passed. The three of us have been sleeping downstairs together in the master—Crew in the middle, Jeremy and me separated by yet another child. But tonight was different. Tonight I told Jeremy I wanted him to hold me, so he put Crew on the other side of him and Jeremy lay in the middle. I clung to him for half an hour, hoping we could fall asleep that way, but he wouldn’t stop with the fucking questions.
“Why did you take them in the canoe?”
“They wanted to go,” I said.
“Why weren’t they in life jackets?”
“I thought we were close to the shore.”
“What was the last thing she said?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Was she still above water when you made it to the shore with Crew?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Did you know the canoe was about to tip over?”
“No. It all happened so fast.”
The questions stopped for a while, but I knew he was still awake. Finally, after several minutes of silence, he said, “It just doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?”
He pulled back, putting space between my face and his chest. He wanted me to look at him, so I lifted my head.
He touched my cheek, gently, with the backs of his fingers. “Why did you tell Crew to hold his breath, Verity?”
That’s the moment I knew it was over.
That’s the moment he knew it was over.
For a man who thought he knew his wife… That was the first time he’d ever really understood the look in my eyes. And I knew, no matter how hard I tried to convince him…he would never believe me over Crew. He wasn’t that kind of man. He put his kids first before his own wife, and that’s the one thing I dislike the most about him.
I tried, though. I tried to convince him. It’s hard to be convincing when tears are streaming down your cheeks and your voice is shaking when you say, “I said that as we were tipping. Not before.”
He watched me for a moment. And then he released me. Pulled away from me for what I knew would be the very last time. He rolled over and wrapped his arms around Crew, like he was his own personal body of armor.
His protector.
From me.
I tried to lie still with no reaction so that he’d think I fell asleep, but all I did was cry quietly. When my tears began to increase, I walked to my office and I closed the door before Jeremy could hear me sobbing.
When I got to my office, I opened my manuscript and began to type. It feels as though there’s nothing left to say. No future to write about. No past to redeem.
Am I at the end of my story?
I don’t know what happens next. Unlike my prediction of Chastin’s murder, I don’t know how my life will end.
Will it be at the hands of Jeremy? Or will it be by my own hand?
Or maybe it won’t end at all. Maybe Jeremy will wake up tomorrow and see me sleeping next to him. Maybe he’ll remember all the good times, all the blow jobs, all the swallowing. And he’ll realize how much more time we’ll have to do those things now that we only have one child.
Or…maybe he’ll wake up convinced that Harper’s death was not an accident. Maybe he’ll report me to the police. Maybe he’ll want to see me suffer for what I did to her.
If that’s the case…so be it.
I’ll just drive my car into a tree.
